


Like I Do

by grimeysociety



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Darcy Lewis, Bisexual Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Darcy Lewis Needs a Hug, F/F, F/M, Hate Sex, Heavy Angst, Infidelity, Multi, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge Sex, angry wall sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22645981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: When Natasha fails to confront her past, she sleeps with Bucky for the first time in years. Betrayed and heartbroken, her girlfriend Darcy resorts to destructive ways to move on.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 76
Kudos: 201
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I do not like cheating. I feel the need to voice this as I tend to receive a certain type of reaction when I have characters in my stories do morally ambiguous or unsavory things.
> 
> Secondly, I know I am perhaps evoking some stereotypes about bisexuality, but frankly, as a bisexual woman myself... I'm not completely blind. Also, I'm not here to hold your hand. At least, not in this story. I wrote this because of an idea hatched from a conversation I had with sarahbeniel. This isn't my idea, or at least the skeleton of it isn't mine. 
> 
> Thirdly, I'm not writing this because I think Natasha is a deceitful person. These characters are nuanced, they're hurting and they hurt. This story is just meant to be an angsty, fucked-up mess.
> 
> And last of all, this was written for Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019, the square W1: Need some help? / You shouldn’t be here. /Nice to see you, too.
> 
> P.S. Please welcome the tag "Angry Wall Sex". sarahbeniel and I are big fans, and it's coming up in the next chapter of this fic. ❤
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)

_When I cut a hole into my skull_  
_Do you hate what you see?_  
_Like I do_  
\- **"Souvenir" by Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus**

**i.**

Darcy’s hands found hers, threading their fingers together.

She liked her this way, dressed to kill, literally dressed to go kill some bad guys, or at the very least, suppress them. Her green eyes were bright with calculations, checking off the lists in her head, measuring things she never shared with Darcy.

They’d been doing this for almost a year, on and off. They were definitely on now, since that morning Natasha was there when she woke. Darcy rolled over and traced the planes of her back with her fingers, breathing in the scent of her. Then Nat rolled to meet her and pulled her flush against her, lifting her leg to hoist over Darcy’s wide hip.

They stayed in bed for an hour, kissing, making love… Darcy was sure she smelt of her still, since she hadn’t showered. Nat had, putting on a white loose shirt over her without a bra afterward, sitting cross-legged in bed with a cup of coffee while Darcy dozed.

Standing together while Nat failed to say what Darcy wished, it was clear that the mission was going to be a painful one. Deep cover, no communication while she was gone, and Darcy was meant to wait in the radio silence with no reprieve. This could go on for weeks, and it had before, and Darcy always vowed it would be better next time. She’d be prepared, but she was terrified now.

“I love you,” she said, and Nat blinked at her, her plush lips parting.

It wasn’t an admission, it was something she felt was obvious. It was evident in her touch, the way she looked at Nat even when there was other people in the room. She never hid away, and she wasn’t saying it now to make Nat say it back. She knew she didn’t operate that way. She wasn’t easily manipulated, if ever. She squeezed her hands as she said this, nodding.

“I love you,” she said again, and Nat mirrored her nod, looking down.

What she wanted was for Nat to let her guard down. God forbid she ever showed some real intimacy. She wasn’t entirely bitter. She had been more earlier on, when Nat would show up at her door with a bottle of some type of liquor and she’d spend the night, everything a haze of need, and Darcy was weak that way. She wanted to be wanted.

When she thought Nat became predictable, pretending they were only friends when they clearly weren’t, she dropped everything, didn’t answer her door anymore. And then Nat sent her flowers to her desk with her name signed so that they were undeniable. She’d kiss her in front of the others after that, and Darcy couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ push her away.

“It’s okay,” she added, and Nat bit her lip, nodding some more.

They kissed and Darcy tried not to cry, at least not too much, not the whimpering sobs that she was guilty of. She did plenty of that when Nat left her apartment, wearing her Kevlar with her thigh holsters.

-

The Bee Gee’s _More Than A Woman_ was playing in the tenements as Natasha scaled the side of the building, pulling herself up to dash across the roof and land in a crouch, glancing up at the figure in front of her.

“Need some help?” she said with a smirk, and Bucky’s jaw tensed as if on reflex, his retort a grunt:

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

He failed to play along with her at the best of times, so the frown he gave her was nothing new. Natasha wasn’t supposed to be there, that part was true. She’d never said a word to him about coming along on this mission. She didn’t want him objecting, and he knew it, too, by the look he gave her.

She stood up, folding her arms. She looked behind her at the fence with barbed wire.

“Party could start any minute now.”

“Is that what it’s supposed to be, Talia?” he retorted, and her eyes swung to meet his.

He was checking his gun, but she knew it was for show. Bucky never needed to check a weapon. He could do it in his sleep. Natasha was pretty sure she’d seen him dreaming about it more than once, muttering to himself as his fingers flexed.

“I took out the cameras,” he went on. “Kamiński’s on the first level with three guys. Should be an easy job.”

He called the old handler by his Polish name, not his anglicized version, Bucky’s tongue fluent. She knew if she lapsed into Russian he’d be able to keep up but he’d give her a dirty look, since she knew he always preferred English.

He was saying more than what was said out loud. He knew that they both knew it was an easy job, and it required one of them at most. A drone could even do it.

Bucky paused, giving her a long stare. Natasha smirked, the old movement likely invoking many moments they’d had together, the first time being when she was a teenager. Those memories in which he seemed to never age because he didn’t, not in a physical way at least, while Natasha had formed into a woman, a deadly little spider carved out of flesh and stone.

“Kamiński’s mine,” she said, and he let out a short laugh like a breath, shaking his head, his teeth bared for two whole seconds.

“Natalia, he’s mine.”

“There’s a line, and it starts here, Barnes,” she retorted, and she moved to push past him, only to have his hand grab her arm and she was reminded of Steve, both men guilty of trying to control her at least once in their lives, clutching at straws.

She didn’t hold it against them. She knew she was the same, except she had the privilege of not losing her temper so easily. Men were pretty weak that way, even when females were the so-called gentler sex. Men were vulnerable, insecure, and even the strongest of them could be played like fiddles.

 _“Take your hand away,”_ she murmured clipped Russian that made Bucky blink in surprise.

He obliged and she slipped past him, reaching the door, guessing rightly that it was locked. She thought about kicking it down, or smashing it like Steve would, but instead she took out a small device with a keypad and leads that she plugged into the lock. It took a few seconds for the device to cycle through, mimicking the precise pattern needed as a key, and there was a distinct click that had Natasha smirking again.

Bucky was right behind her when she opened the door, her hand shoving the device away as she took out a handgun. They walked together down the hallway, and Natasha listened out for any signs of life, hearing the Bee Gees begin another track.

She glanced at Bucky, seeing him poised with his own Glock, his long hair half in his face. The way she moved she’d learned from him, so it was no wonder that they were in sync, their eyes sharp, and their feet light.

Their eyes met when they arrived at a doorway, Bucky giving the slightest nod. Now was the time for ambush, not stealth, so he raised a leg to kick the door wide open, revealing a dank basement with low ceilings and several broken light fixtures, with only one working light.

Three men stood while a fourth sat with his back to them, his arms hanging down, with blood on the cement. Natasha recognized the back of his head as Kamiński, her gun raised to shoot at the remaining men.

It was a trap.

They ducked as Natasha began to fire with Bucky, bullets flying around, and she was forced to crouch and manoeuver out of the way. If Kamiński was dead, it could mean they were fighting other assassins with grudges. Natasha doubted they were on the same side, especially by the elaborate tattoos she could make out on the hulking men in suits.

One of them swore elaborately in Russian, declaring his shoulder was completely fucked thanks to Natasha, calling her every name under the sun as Bucky met her eye, in the middle of reloading.

“May I kill them?” she asked, and he narrowed his eyes slightly, not appreciating her cheek.

“Be my guest, doll,” he replied, and she took off, rising up to fire with both her handguns with her eyes open, one of the men down with a yell, the other with the injured shoulder taking a couple more bullets before he fell with a loud thud.

There was a second of silence, Natasha’s ears ringing as she searched for the third man, and then there was a crack and she fell, her legs giving out as she was struck in her thigh.

She met the ground and dropped her weapons, her hands on her thigh as she heard the last man cry out before a snap of his neck. She felt like her chest had caved in from the shock, her fingers desperately trying to patch up the hole in her leg, and then Bucky was above her, clutching her face with one gloved hand, his other pressing down over her leg.

“I got you, look at me, hey, look at me…”

He looked as terrified as she’d ever seen him, which meant he was talking more, faster, his voice up and down, his Brooklyn twang coming through as he regressed.

She’d been in this position before, many times. She never was used to it, the feeling of a bullet buried inside her, everything so wrong. She cried out, unable to keep it in anymore.

“It hurts!”

“I have to push down, I’m sorry,” he said, and she nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt all tingly, remembering she’d felt this way with Darcy only a handful of hours ago.

She’d jumped out of her bed when she saw the intel on Kamiński, but earlier she’d had Darcy’s hand nestled between her thighs to bring her off for the third time that morning, everything so warm and sleepy and soft…

“Talia, look at me,” Bucky was saying. “Talk to me…”

“Give me some morphine,” she gasped out, and he chuckled, the sound so foreign to her nowadays. “I wanna be strung out when I’m gone…”

“You’re not dyin’, I think they skimmed your artery,” he said, but he didn’t sound certain, a wad of bandages now pressing her leg, wrapped tight like a tourniquet. “You’re gonna be fine.”

He scooped her up and Natasha gave a groan, the movement feeling like it could spilt her in two, her grip around Bucky’s neck like a vice. Her breath was shaky but she said:

“If I die…”

“You’re not gonna, not today,” Bucky said, and she shook her head, her eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m a sore loser, Bucky,” she whispered. “If I die, find out who they worked for and kill ’em…”

“’Course,” he murmured, and she laughed, feeling weightless, her vision darkening around the edges as she gazed up at him. “I’d love to.”

-

When she came to, she was resting on several pillows, her thigh propped up, her pants gone. She shifted onto her elbows, glancing around.

She was in a safe house, Bucky staring out the window with his arms crossed, his eyes flitting to her when he spotted her awake. She glanced down at her leg as Bucky moved toward her, sitting on the edge of the mattress she occupied. There was no bed frame, only one pillow, and the room smelt vaguely of refried beans.

“How long was I out?”

“You slept for about ten hours,” he murmured, looking down at her leg.

She didn’t close her legs, though she was certain he could see the dents in the front of her underwear that were made by her pubic hair. They were way past that, it seemed, and Natasha refused to believe she wasn’t dignified without clothes on. She’d never been ashamed of nudity in the first place, she had been raised that way.

“Let me,” he said, when she tried to stop his fingers with her own.

She drew them back, pursing her lips as Bucky began to unravel the bandage, his intent stare on the wound as it was revealed in the low light. The stitches were clean, less precise than Natasha would normally do, but in a pinch she knew she was in good hands if it was Bucky piecing her back together again.

“You got a way to explain this when we get back?” he murmured, and Natasha didn’t blink when he glanced up, his big blue eyes trained on her. “Huh?”

“I’ll think of something,” she replied. “Give me the alcohol.”

He ducked down to grab the first aid kit and she rummaged through it, cleaned the wound in silence as he watched her. She shoved the kit aside and lay back down, her eyes still on him.

She was pissed off. Now she couldn’t wipe off Kamiński off her ledger that still hung in the red, and she’d have to live with that, circle around it forever.

“Talia,” Bucky whispered, and she blinked hard, feeling hot tears well in her eyes.

She shook her head, sniffling. He’d seen her cry before. After long days in the snow, after she was beaten and thrown aside, after he came back from the dead time after time.

“Tell me what to do,” she said, her voice wavering.

“With what?” he rasped, and she felt a tear begin to fall.

“Tell me what to do with the anger, Bucky,” she said, and he glanced away at the floor, shaking his head.

“I dunno,” he muttered. “But if you ever figure it out, let me know…”

They lapsed into silence and Natasha drifted off, her tears shoved back down, her hands balled into fists.

She woke again a couple hours later, Bucky beside her, and she managed to turn over enough so their faces were level, his eyes shut. It was dark outside and she wondered what time it was. She reached for her phone on the floor with a soft grunt, the pain in her leg lessened but her stitches still pulled against her flesh, irritating her into submission more than pain ever did.

It was 2AM. Prague at this hour, last time she was here, she was sipping a martini in a cushy lounge. She sensed Bucky was awake because his breathing was so soft, almost undetectable.

“Don’t make a break for it now, you won’t get far.”

She smiled in the dark despite herself. “I’m sure I can walk.”

She managed to lift her leg enough to swing around, setting her feet on the floor. She slowly stood, feeling that tightness again, and she took a deep breath, beginning to shuffle toward the doorway to reach the bathroom.

She needed to clean up, she could feel the grime in every fold of her, and she stripped down to nothing, running the shower. She stepped under, grabbing the edge of the tiled wall inside, letting the water run down her face and back. The pain was immense on her thigh and muscles but she needed it, she needed to ground herself.

She managed to scrub at her face and body with little pastel purple bar of lavender scented soap. She wet her hair and used it again, rinsing everything fast. She felt light-headed, her hand reaching out into thin air, and she stumbled –

She felt Bucky’s hands on her, pulling her out from the shower, the water still running as Bucky yelled:

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Talia?”

She wanted to argue, tell him to mind his own business, but she was transported to a forest in Siberia, his cold eyes glued to hers as he towered over her, his gun pressed to the side of her head.

“You can’t hesitate. They’ll use any kind of weakness against you. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little girl, it won’t stop them.”

“I am not a little girl!” Natalia snarled, her breath in front of her face. “If I’m so useless, shoot me! Do it! DO IT!”

“Let go of me,” she mumbled, even though Bucky’s hands were already laying her on the tiled bathroom floor, grabbing a towel to cover her. 

The world came flooding back and she heard him turn off the shower, moving back to her, his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t have the strength to push him away, hearing him murmur:

“You need to eat somethin’, for cryin’ out loud…”

He lifted her with ease, carrying her out of the bathroom, and she landed back on the bed. She realized she’d forgotten her stitches, and when she felt them, they weren’t seeping. He dried her carefully, at least until Natasha shoved his shoulder, her way of telling him to stop when words seemed to fail her.

He looked away finally, at the floor, and she hated it. He’d never been one to retreat from her, and she narrowed her eyes at him, wrapping the towel back around her, pulling the blanket back over her up to her chin.

“What’s up with you?”

It was such an American expression, something she’d never said to him before. She was certain she’d adopted it in the last ten years, along with the immaculate accent and love of Corvettes.

“What’s your plan, since you haven’t shared it with me?” he asked, and she blinked at him. “Were you hopin’ to kill Kamiński and run off into the night? You knew I’d be here. How?”

He bit out the last word and she swallowed.

“I have my sources –”

“Whatever you’re usin’ to bug my shit, get rid of it now. I swear to God –”

“What, what do you swear, James?” she snapped, and his face pinched at the name. “If you knew I was coming here, you’d do the same.”

“Doesn’t make it right!” he snapped, getting up.

He stalked to the window, looking outside. He gestured.

“We can’t leave now because you decided to tag along. Do you get that? If it were me, I’d do a clean job. The two of us –”

“Okay,” she snapped. “We’ll stay here until we can be extracted by Clint or someone else. And you can tell everyone about me being the damsel in distress –”

“Aw, give it a rest!” he thundered. “I am so _sick_ of you being proud. I stay out of your bullshit when I can, you should respect that, too.”

She let out a surprised little laugh, unable to control it. She looked away, her cheeks feeling hot. She’d suspected it he'd stayed away deliberately.

“I’m avoiding you,” he said, arms wide. “Or haven’t you noticed that over the last two years?”

She let his words hang between them, her eyes unblinking as she watched him lower his hands to his hips, his voice lowering.

“Is this gonna happen every time one of those guys pops up?”

He answered his own question and Natasha grit her jaw, covering it by shrugging a shoulder. She could act like an insolent little child, since he insisted she was one.

“Natalia –”

“Don’t call me that. No-one calls me that,” she muttered. “It shows your age.”

She knew not in a thousand years would Bucky give a shit about being old, or showing how old he was to anyone else. It shows your status, she had also implied. Her birth name was something she didn’t hold dear. None of her heritage was a comfort, since she was never homesick.

“It will,” she mumbled. “And you can’t stop me.”

He looked away then, passing a hand over his face, and she wasn’t expecting the reaction he gave her, but she heard him let out a shuddering breath, and she was up from the mattress, moving as fast as she could toward him.

She knew him too well. That was her excuse, or her reason for flying to him as he suppressed a sob. She’d scared him, like she had so many times before. She remembered the first time she took a bullet, because he was there, too. He wasn’t himself. Neither of them were, but he dug the bullet out of her then, and he did it over and over again, fixing her, holding her…

She held him now, his hands on the small of her back, his body shaking as he sobbed, and she clutched him tighter, feeling tears in her eyes. She felt dizzy, and she knew it was her blood sugar, but it was her heart, too, heavy as lead to weigh a body down in a river…

She moved back, tilting her head, pressing her lips to his, and there was the familiar taste of him, his hands coming up to thread through her hair, tugging her closer to him.

They stumbled back, Bucky deepening their kiss as Natasha fell beneath him on the bed, her lip between his two, his tongue gliding to meet hers, their breaths coming in short pants. The scratch of his unshaven face, the way his hands gripped her tight, then roamed all over her, it was all dizzying, building her up and up.

“Bucky –”

Her hands were on his fly, tugging it down, the struggle to reach him making her hands fumble when she was usually so meticulous. He kept the weight off of her injured leg but it didn’t stop him from shoving inside her, no preamble, the sting enough to make her cry out, their breaths mingling and hot.

She couldn’t be quiet, the plaintive sounds he ripped from her filling his ears, and she was stretched beyond comprehension, her body shivering with each pass across her clit. He moved slow and hard, his mouth at her pulse point as he drove into her, panting against her.

She came with a roll of her hips, at least, as much as the angle allowed her as she was still pinned beneath him, her vision turning white. He followed her, laying against her bare chest as they panted, the room spinning around them.


	2. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's been a little while. I know only a handful of you are here, but thanks for sticking with this one. What can I say about this fic in particular? The road to Hell is wide...
> 
> This is also for my Bucky Barnes Bingo square C3: "Blank Space".

_Fast as you can, baby_   
_Run, free yourself of me_   
_Fast as you can_   
_I may be soft in your palm_   
_But I'll soon grow hungry for a fight_   
_And I will not let you win_   
_My pretty mouth will frame the phrases_   
_That will disprove your faith in man_   
_So if you catch me trying to find my way into your heart_   
_From under your skin_   
**\- "Fast As You Can" by Fiona Apple**

_I had a marvelous time ruining everything_   
_A marvelous time ruining everything_   
_A marvelous time_   
_I had a marvelous time_   
**\- "the last great american dynasty" by Taylor Swift**

**ii.**

Natasha had the ability to make Darcy feel as if she’d never made more noise in her entire life. It happened often after she came back from a mission or a heavy training session, and that afternoon was no exception.

Darcy had run out onto the helipad and threw her arms around Natasha, which she’d never done before. She had felt it was necessary, since Clint told her she’d been shot in Europe and had to be smuggled out of there with Bucky Barnes. The whole incident sounded like a gigantic mess Darcy may never be fully privy to. That was at least what she thought when she took Natasha’s had and walked inside, Bucky lingering behind them.

Darcy kissed her when they were alone in the elevator, but something was off, more than what she was used to. Nat was prone to being a bit odd about affection at times, and Darcy knew to read the room accordingly, backing off enough to hold her hand instead. She really wished she’d kiss her with abandon, to show her she was desperate to return to her. Darcy knew she’d been missed, or otherwise Nat would have told Darcy to wait up for her, to put their little reunion. Darcy was highly emotional after all, and she knew not everyone was a fan of it at the best of times.

Their fingers threaded together as the elevator flew down a dozen floors to reach Darcy’s apartment, they were perfectly silent. When they reached her front door, Natasha let go of her, her eyes on the floor as she folded her arms. She looked exhausted, in need of a bath and a sleep. Darcy had prepared herself for this, buying a bottle of wine for them to share. It was currently breathing in her dingy kitchen.

Natasha stepped inside the apartment and didn’t sit down, walking into the living room only to look out the window again, and Darcy felt her stomach twist.

“You okay?” she asked, knowing she couldn’t possibly be by the look on her face alone.

“Darcy, something happened,” Nat murmured, and she swallowed, turning back toward her.

Her throat bobbed as her eyes turned glassy. Darcy moved toward her instinctively, raising her hands to touch her face, but Nat side-stepped her at the last second, Darcy’s stomach dropping.

“What is it? Talk to me,” she said.

“I am, I’m trying to,” Nat replied, and she swiped at her nose roughly. “I was – I was in Prague. I knew an old handler of mine would be there.”

Darcy nodded, keeping quiet.

“Bucky was there, I followed him,” she said, glancing away. “I bugged his network, met him at the warehouse my handler was meant to be at, and I was there to take him out. I got shot.”

“He didn’t do anything else?” Darcy asked, dreading whatever had made Nat so spooked as this.

“He wasn’t there,” Nat breathed. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. “I was… angry.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “So you’ll get him next time.”

“No, he was dead,” Nat amended. She shook her head. “I can’t – I can’t wipe it from my ledger –”

“If he was evil and now he’s dead, that’s a good thing,” Darcy said, and Nat shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut once more.

She seemed to be in some kind of pain, passing a hand over her face. The silence that followed was too heavy, making Darcy anxious. She reached for her finally, touching Nat’s arm, rubbing it in what she hoped to be a soothing way.

“Darce…”

By the way Natasha whispered her name with such anguish, Darcy’s heart began to hammer in her chest. She hoped this wasn’t some long-winded way she was trying to break up with her yet again.

“I…”

“What is it?” Darcy whispered, prompting her when the words trailed off.

Nat met her eye, biting her lip. She swallowed, letting go a shaky exhale.

“I slept with someone else,” Nat whispered.

Darcy hadn’t expected it at all. She’d had some downright shitty exes in the past, but they were all young men she hadn’t had the highest hopes for in the first place. Any time they’d disappointed her or hurt her, a part of her, at least in the beginning, was a little relieved. It was as if her mind was saying, _you suspicions were correct. Never trust anyone._

Darcy stepped back, feeling a wave of nausea, covering her mouth.

“Why?”

She hadn’t realized she’d asked that out loud until Natasha let out a little anguished huff.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“So he fell?” Darcy snapped, her eyes narrowing at Nat, whose own gaze ducked to Darcy’s dirty sneakers.

“Not exactly,” Nat whispered. “Bucky and I… we have a history.”

Darcy felt it like a blow to her chest, because she hadn’t allowed herself to consider it, not up close. She had her suspicions when Nat ever briefly spoke about her past, and there were endless rumors surrounding her and Bucky, but that’s what they’d always been, rumors. Darcy had taken everything she heard with a generous grain of salt.

“Is that why you didn’t kiss me when you landed? Because you couldn’t stand doing that in front of him on the rooftop?” Darcy asked, and Natasha stared at her, her lips parting. “Is that why – oh God. Oh, my God. _Oh, my God_ …”

She began to recoil from her, turning away, hugging herself as a sob took over her. She bent at the waist and then stumbled to the floor with it.

Bucky had lived in New York since escaping HYDRA for the last two years, and although she’d never seen them in the same room together, it didn’t mean Natasha hadn’t snuck around this entire time.

“Darcy…”

“Why did you do this?” Darcy asked, refusing to look her way anymore.

If she was honest, she was afraid of crumbling into a forgiving heap instead of standing her ground as she rightfully should.

“Because I’m a shitty person, I guess,” Natasha mumbled.

That wasn’t a good enough reason for Darcy, as it all sounded way too convenient. She let out a harsh little laugh, her tears spilling over.

“Get out.”

There was a beat and Darcy glared at her finally, raising a finger to point toward the door.

_“Get out! Now!”_

She’d never yelled at someone like that before, never a woman, never someone she loved as much as Natasha. She wanted to take hold of her and shake her. She wanted to fuck her, to mark her as her own. She wanted to make her feel just as bad as she did.

She turned away again, and waited for Natasha to beg, but instead she listened to her turn her heel and walk out, the door shutting soon after.

Darcy lay down on the floor and wept.

-

Bucky’s ma didn’t raise a fool, no matter what Natalia thought of him. He hadn’t expected a single thing from her, not for years and years.

He had expected silence from her when they returned from Prague, after Clint’s extraction. He thought he’d go by virtually unscathed, that the moment of lapsed judgment could be passed off solely as that, and they’d never speak of it again, if they ever happened to speak to one another.

It was becoming less likely as the days wore on. He hadn’t waited for her at night, but he still had the recurring dream of her coming to him, arriving at his apartment with that little smirk that burned in his mind forever.

It was the smile that said that he could know Natalia her entire life and never really figure her out.

He was in love with her. He’d never questioned that. He’d loved her always, he’d never beaten himself up over it, but it hadn’t ever helped him, either. It was a fact of his miserable existence always.

He was in the kitchens a couple weeks after Prague and came across Darcy Lewis, the lab girl that met them on the helipad when they landed. She was beautiful, in a kind of understated way that made Bucky more intrigued, rather than passing a glance over her.

He’d always been a bit of a jackass that way, being drawn to women not matter what. He popped the cap of his beer bottle off as she pushed past him to get her own.

Their eyes met and Bucky could see she was inspecting him, but she didn’t seem wary of him like agents at SHIELD were. She would have to know who he was, but they’d never spoken a single word to one another.

There was a flash of something in her eyes, and he managed to grasp it, assessing it as apathy. So she was one of those people, like Tony Stark had been for quite some time. She was not pleased to see him, but resigned to the fact that he was within her orbit. He was about to turn his heel and make a swift exit, because he understood her attitude, he really did. He figured if he was her, he’d probably dislike him, too.

“Is it the shared experience, or some bullshit like that?” she asked, and Bucky frowned at her, genuinely confused.

“Pardon me?”

“You and Nat,” she said, and Bucky felt his stomach drop. “She told me you guys fucked in Prague –”

“That’s…”

Bucky didn’t know exactly where his sentence was going, but he was inclined to defend Talia, since he was the one who made the first move. After they screwed, she’d let him hold her, but she’d turned cold once they contacted Clint, like the bubble had burst.

She’d always been like that with him though. Even when they were good, she was likely to put him down and pick him back up again when it suited her. It was never about what he wanted. He didn’t mind, or told himself he didn’t, since she was just as screwed up as him, if not more. Again, Bucky’s ma raised no fool – Natalia’s entire history was only known to Natalia, and as honest as he’d been with her, she’d never do the same with him, so whatever she’d been through he’d never know the extent of.

He read Darcy’s apathy then as jealousy, and he felt worse for her than himself, despite the venom in her tone, or the way she was glaring at him like he was a cockroach about the scurry away from her after she’d flipped on a light.

“No, she told me it happened,” Darcy cut in. “But it’s okay, we broke up.”

She was badly hurt. Something told him not to apologize, since that would only make it worse. And from what he could tell, words wouldn’t help in this situation, because people could give all the words they could, it wouldn’t change what happened in Prague.

He ducked his head, and she surprised him, shoving the beer bottle under his nose.

“Open this for me?”

Their eyes met once more and she made him feel stripped to the bone with those endless, big blue eyes of hers drinking him in. He obliged her wordlessly, and she didn’t seem eager to shut up, her lip curling in a cruel way.

“You guys do have more in common,” she went on, putting the bottle to her full lips, Bucky’s eyes falling to them to watch her take a drink, her slender throat working.

She was beautiful and very sad. Bucky felt a tug in his chest, and he knew it was shame. He knew it well, it seeped into his bones every few hours at this point. It didn’t seem to matter how much time he spent healing, he was still bleeding from open wounds all over.

“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice rough. He seemed to disrupt her train of thought.

“You didn’t know about us?” Darcy asked, and she tilted her head slightly, unconvinced. “Bullshit.”

He truly hadn’t. He thought she wasn’t seeing anyone, and he’d never known of it. Whatever they were, some long-enduring, messy tangle, was all he’d known Natalia to have. The thought of her being with someone else filled him with rage if he wasn’t too careful, and then he’d tamper it down, feeling like an animal.

“I swear on my mother’s grave, I never knew,” Bucky said, and Darcy’s smile faltered, her eyes drifting away.

She took another gulp of her beer, finally slamming the fridge door shut.

Bucky should have left her then, so she’d at least have some privacy, but he was weak. He wasn’t about to pretend otherwise, and seeing a crying woman was one of his weaknesses. Darcy wiped her eyes without sobbing, flicking the tears away as if they were a natural occurrence.

-

“You can have each other,” she said.

“She doesn’t want me,” Bucky replied.

They were sitting on the common room couch. It was a couple days later, in the middle of the night. Bucky hadn’t thought she’d show up, since no-one seemed to be around at two in the morning, not even Steve who had the similar chronic insomnia he dealt with. Darcy wore a baggy men’s shirt over a pair of sweatpants, her feet bare as she propped them up on the coffee table like Bucky’s boots were.

He wanted to ask her what she wanted from him, since she seemed determined to air her grievances. He wouldn’t mind being her punching bag, if it made her feel even the slightest bit better. He did feel bad about the situation. He would never have slept with Natalia if he’d known…

He closed his eyes, thinking that now, knowing it was a lie. If Natalia was married he’d sleep with her. He would always be hers, one way or another.

He passed a hand over his face.

“I don’t think you understand what that does to a girl, knowing their girlfriend fucked a man when they were cheated on,” Darcy said, and he dared to glance her way, seeing her arms were crossed over her ample chest. “But it makes me feel like I should at least get checked out.”

Bucky frowned. “Now, come on –”

That felt like she’d crossed a line, implying he was dirty. His immune system was only second to Steve’s to begin with, so he wasn’t likely to carry some type of venereal disease to begin with. When their eyes met again, she was fierce, her chin raised as if to dare him to move.

“Fuck you,” she snarled. “Fuck you both.”

“Whatever makes you feel better,” he said, and she let out a harsh laugh.

“God, you’re both so arrogant. You think you can act however you want, and fuck everybody else. You deserve each other. You both should just be miserable together.”

It occurred to him that she still didn’t believe he hadn’t known about her, and he twisted in his seat, leaning closer to her, feeling compelled to make his words truly land.

“If I’d known she was your girl –”

“My _girl_?” she repeated, scoffing.

“If I’d known,” Bucky said again, with emphasis. “I would never have been so nice to you, you know that, right? I’d be more likely to –”

“What?” she hissed. “If I was a guy, you’d throw me across the room?”

She struck a chord in him and she knew it, her eyes bright with triumph. She was right. It was her gender that compelled him to treat her differently. If she was a fella, he’d be undermining her at every turn. He’d want to fight him in the parking lot, duel pistols at dawn, the whole works. It would be dramatic and stupid –

So Bucky was a fool in love, and an absolute hypocrite.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “But what are you doin’ here at two in the morning, sweetheart?”

She surged into him, their lips crashing together, and Bucky’s hand came up her clutch her by the hair, holding her in place as he pushed back to meet each pass of her tongue against his.

His place was closest. He rose from the couch when she came up for air, his heart pounding in his ears, and he was so angry he was shaking with it by the time they reached his front door.

He picked her up, shoving her into the wall, their kisses all teeth and tongue as they tussled, and he was burning up, overwhelmed by everything he felt.

He was so lonely. He hadn’t acknowledged that until he slept with Talia in Prague, and he’d known then it was a mistake for her, when it was a very deliberate choice for him, like it was every time. The love of his life couldn’t stand to look at him. He hadn’t seen her in days, and she’d never been so torn up like him, and he wanted to eradicate her in the worst way possible.

Absolute betrayal would have to do, and Darcy was just as hurt.

She gave a little wounded moan when he pushed inside of her to the hilt, her legs wrapped around his waist, her underwear shoved off along with her pants. Bucky’s jeans were at his ankles as he fucked her with a lack of tenderness he’d never experienced.

He liked to make love, not do whatever this was, but he couldn’t deny it was scratching a particular itch in him, knowing he was ripping moans from his lover’s lover, her mouth at his ear as he fucked her with grit teeth.

He was ruthless, almost certain he was hurting Darcy in the process, but she gripped him with her tight little cunt, her hand deep in his hair.

He fucked her until she cried out, going still in his arms as he kept going, until he was milked dry, groaning into her sweaty neck.

The broke apart, her legs shaky as he put her back on the floor. They panted, staring at one another, and he slumped against her, their foreheads together as they sweated and tried to recollect a moment before all this, when they weren’t out of control.

“I hate you,” she whispered, but it melted into something else when she pulled him into a rough kiss.

He liked how she tasted. He liked how it felt to be inside her. He liked how he smelt of her now, his come seeping out of her, threatening to drip on his hallway floor.

His mouth slanted over hers again, and his hands on either side of her face.

She gave a little whimper and his stomach flipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	3. iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what even is this

_Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies_   
_Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light_   
_And if you don't love me now_   
_You will never love me again_   
**\- "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac**

_The honey is sweet, the apple's bitter_   
_They'll try and convince you you stronger without your woman_   
_Than when you with her_   
**\- "I Might Need Security" by Chance the Rapper**

**iii.**

He was laying back on the pillows, completely naked, his ankles crossed, waiting for her when Darcy returned from the bathroom.

His eyes were closed as he leaned back with an arm behind his head, his skin glowing in post-coital bliss, whereas Darcy had been damp with sweat, her hair a tangled mess that she tried to tame in the mirror moments ago.

She felt something loosen in her chest when she approached him, sitting on the edge of his side of her bed, leaning in to invade his space.

She barely recognized herself. She was certain she hated this man more than anyone else in her life. Not that there was a long list of people she disliked – she thought she’d never forgive him, and now she couldn’t stop looking at him, because he was just so goddamn beautiful, and it felt like he was completely wasted on her.

She shouldn’t have done this. She should have broken it off with Natasha and moved on like an adult, but she knew she was emotionally stunted that way. She hadn’t thought she’d try to feel some kind of catharsis when she was pinned against his wall with Bucky fucking her blind.

She asked herself many times since, _why her?_ He was in love with Natalia Romanova, a living legend, so beautiful and deadly it made sense that he had a history with her. Darcy was ordinary.

She didn’t have to think over the obvious follow-up question: _why him?_

What she didn’t know about him before sleeping with him, she quickly found out in the days that followed. Everything about him was generous and fierce. He was attentive and strong in ways that she hadn’t anticipated, able to walk her through each passing emotion.

There was so much regret, and yet she couldn’t linger in the shame for too long, despite what her better judgment said. She’d used Bucky and then fell for him hard and fast, in a matter of days, because he was hurt like she was.

It wasn’t that they had a common enemy. Even when she was lying in his arms in the dark, she knew he was thinking of his past lover, and she was doing the same.

“What am I going to do with you?” she whispered, and he opened his eyes only slightly, a slow smile forming on his face.

She threw a leg over him, settling in his lap as he drew her into a long, lingering kiss. He tasted vaguely of her musk, and his short beard certainly smelled of her arousal.

“I should tie you to the bed,” she whispered, and he chuckled, the low rumbling sound doing wonders to her insides, warm desire pooling in her guts.

She didn’t know how to explain it to anyone but she managed to bypass the awkward fumbling beginnings of a relationship and fell headfirst into a serious territory, feeling like he’d known her so much longer, like when she was sleeping they’d learned one another in their dreams.

“Great minds,” he replied eventually, staring deep into her eyes, both hands cradling her face. “I was about to suggest the same thing…”

He kissed her nose, then planted another on her lips, taking a deep breath.

“You okay?”

She nodded, trying to keep her smile in place but it was slipping. He rubbed her cheek with his flesh thumb. She swallowed.

“I don’t wanna go to work.”

“I know,” he murmured. “You wanna take the morning off?”

She didn’t have to pretend, another smile spreading across her face. He’d already stayed the last two nights, sneaking back after a training session with Steve. She pressed a kiss to his lips, pointedly.

“Don’t wanna turn you into a bad habit –”

He tugged her back by the arm when she attempted to turn away, and she was pulled into his chest with a surprised giggle, before Bucky turned them so she was under him, her legs wrapping around his waist as he kissed her breathless.

He pulled back, scanning her face.

“You’re not sick of me?” she whispered, and his smile faltered a little.

“No, God, no,” he whispered back.

Darcy felt his words as if she’d been hit on the nose, her eyes suddenly smarting. He kissed her face, stroking her hair from her face as she tried to keep the tears from spilling over.

“I miss her,” she admitted.

She felt like she didn’t have to lie. He’d seen her at her absolute worst. She bit her lip, seeing by the expression on his face that he felt the same way.

“I love her,” she added. “You love her, too, right?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving her, y’know,” he mumbled, and he finally looked away, at her hand that twined with his by her head.

She watched his face, as he mulled something over, his jaw ticking. His throat bobbed and his eyes shifted to hers.

“I don’t hate you for that,” she said. “I understand.”

She was late for work, leaving Bucky dozing in her bed. She went back at lunch and wondered how she’d managed to get this far in life without having this much fun with sex, her legs aching with marks on her chest, as if he’d marked his territory.

-

Darcy came across Natasha a couple days later, feeling her heart sink at the sight of her, and she thought her guilt had to show on her face. She felt her whole body begin to shake and she didn’t know what was going to happen.

She’d never been afraid of Nat until now.

It was a hallway with one side illuminated by the floor to ceiling windows, and Nat leaned her back against the glass, her arms crossed. Darcy held a folder under one arm, eager to get back to Jane.

“Hey,” Nat said, and Darcy forced herself to reply, sure that everything she said was foolish.

“Hi.”

She didn’t know exactly what she was feeling, since she knew Nat was the one who cheated on her, but then she’d gone behind her back and tried to use Bucky to get back at her – and Darcy didn’t know who was more at fault. Maybe they were both villains.

Natasha knew. Darcy didn’t know how exactly, but by the look on her face, she knew what Darcy had been up to. Maybe she smelled different, or she was walking differently.

“What’s that?”

“Report for Jane,” Darcy said, holding up the folder. “Listen, Nat –”

“I’m happy for you,” Nat said, but her words were stiff, almost undetectable if someone didn’t know her very well, but Darcy did.

Darcy snapped her mouth shut for a few seconds, her guts twisting.

“I didn’t plan –”

“It was an accident?” Nat said, and Darcy sensed the irony, calling back to how Darcy had reacted to her infidelity.

_So he fell?_

“ _No_ ,” Darcy said, narrowing her eyes as she set her jaw. “I meant for it to happen. I didn’t plan for it to keep going.”

What were they doing? Trying to hurt one another as much as possible? Darcy wondered what Nat’s goal was. She was succeeding at pissing her off, at least.

She was jealous of Nat. It was a revelation, and yet she wondered why she was surprised to discover this, staring into Nat’s steely gaze, balling her spare fist by her side.

“You two make more sense, though,” she added. “I don’t know what he’s doing with me.”

“You’re a good person, Darce,” Nat said, which hurt Darcy somehow. “That’s why he likes you.”

It felt like an insult, like she was being taught something about Bucky, as if he was a stranger to her. She had cried with him, made love with him, and bared her soul to him with her wrath and longing. She couldn’t put into words how important he’d begun.

“You don’t get to… _own_ him,” Darcy snapped. “You know he’ll always be yours. It’s like you’re in his fucking… blood or something.”

“Darcy –”

Darcy spun on the spot, deciding to run away instead of continuing this. She’d explain it to Jane later, tell her something came up. Instead, Nat managed to reach her, touching her wrist, which Darcy ripped away as she glared at her.

“Don’t touch me.”

She couldn’t stand it. She missed Natasha, even when her chest had felt like it could cave in. She began to cry, shutting her eyes and covering them with her hand. She stood still, feeling Nat’s arms come up to wrap around her, and she let her pull her close, the folder between them.

“How… how could you?” she gasped, burying her face in Nat’s neck, sobbing. “We were so good together –”

“I’m so sorry,” Natasha whispered. “I’m so sorry –”

Darcy, mess that she was, desperate to be close to everyone she loved, even when she was hurt by them, pulled back to press a kiss to Nat’s lips, cutting her off.

Nat returned the heat of it, and Darcy whimpered, opening her mouth for her.

She couldn’t hide from her because she didn’t want to. All she’d ever wanted was for Natasha to let her love her, in every way possible.

-

Darcy was on her side, watching Nat leave her side to redress.

It was a hauntingly familiar scene. She could almost remember each move precisely, the faces Nat would make as she put herself back together.

She was so beautiful it made Darcy’s chest ache, and she knew what Bucky felt. He’d never move on, and she wouldn’t either. Natasha was something else.

The mattress dipped as Nat moved toward her to kiss her forehead.

“Was this payback?” Darcy asked, catching her by the wrist.

Nat seemed surprised she went straight for the knife. She’d grown up quite a bit since the last time they were tangled together in bed, and maybe she had more self-respect than she realized. It probably had something to do with Bucky, but she didn’t want to read too much into that right now, not with Nat’s eyes locked with hers, a frown forming on her face.

“No,” she murmured. “I… wanted to do that, because I missed you.”

“You’re not staying?” Darcy asked.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got work to do.”

She wasn’t the type to cuddle, and Darcy hadn’t expected that to change. She nodded, letting her go. Nat didn’t move, only shifted slightly back, glancing away.

“You two should talk,” Darcy said. “I don’t think it’s gonna be a short conversation, either. And I dunno if I’ll be able to be there with you while you do it. It’s not really…”

Nat looked her in the eye again and Darcy let out a small sigh.

“It’s not really my place.”

Nat’s eyes fell to Darcy’s hand laying on the bed covers and she nodded.

“I thought you might actually kill me,” Darcy admitted, and Nat shook her head.

“No, I’d die for you,” she said, and Darcy’s eyes prickled.

“You can’t say shit like that –”

“It’s true,” she said, and she took Darcy’s hand in hers.

Though the rest of her skin was impossibly smooth, Nat’s hands were calloused from years of rough work, years that Darcy may never know fully.

“I wasn’t good to you,” Nat went on. Her voice was rough. “And I think since I was a kid, my heart’s been broken.”

Darcy bit her lip.

“I think it’s always going to be broken,” Nat added. “But… but you helped.”

“What about Bucky?” Darcy asked, her voice wobbling. “Doesn’t he get any credit?”

She suddenly wished he was there, to hold her as well. Nat nodded.

“He’s the reason I’m alive at all.”

-

The three of them sat in Darcy’s untidy living room, the air taut with things unsaid.

It was a couple days later, after Darcy had explained what happened to Bucky. He wasn’t angry, but there had been a distinct shift in him afterwards, and Darcy knew they’d changed again.

They’d never been innocent, but sleeping with Nat had twisted things around, and she hated herself for it.

They sat in silence as the TV played a movie Darcy wasn’t taking in. She sat between them, wishing she had the guts to make a move, do something substantial. She was lost.

She placed her face in her hands and bent forward, beginning to cry. It was pointless being guilty, since she couldn’t ever absolve herself of things that had already happened.

“She loves you,” she mumbled, straightening slightly to look Bucky in the eye. “She loves you back, you know that, right?”

Bucky glanced at Nat, who’d gone still.

Darcy heard Nat murmur: “I do, Bucky.”

Bucky watched only his face as he heard it, and he blinked. His eyes met Darcy’s and she felt her cheeks heat, feeling the intensity of him head-on.

“I love you.”

She wanted to dismiss it, since he’d hardly spent the time with her to warrant such a thing, and she’d told herself repeatedly he was making a mistake over and over. Darcy was a good mistake to make, since she hadn’t known him as long as Nat, but she was most likely a small passage in their epic love story.

He leaned forward, taking her hand.

“Darcy, I love you,” he said. “And I’m not gonna stop.”

-

The three of them, it was difficult to say where it began and where it ended. Darcy was between them for the most part, hands and mouths taking her apart as she tried to keep her tears inside and failed, her chest heaving from feeling so much.

At one point, she was kissing Natasha as Bucky was buried inside her to the hilt, Darcy’s hand between Natasha’s thighs.

She enjoyed ganging up on Bucky best of all, sucking at his pulse point as he groaned underneath herself and Nat.

It was a blurry mess and she was flat on her back by the end, Nat’s and Bucky’s heads resting on her chest, her fingers absently playing with their hair.

“We’re so fucked up,” Darcy whispered, and Bucky began to chuckle.

Natasha whispered something in Russian and Bucky kissed her lips, nuzzling her nose. Nat’s eyes met Darcy’s as she switched back to English.

“He’s not upset, he’s got the two of us.”

Bucky leaned up, moving to slip behind Darcy to spoon her, as Natasha shifted up, facing Darcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


End file.
